Who am I? The study of a saint and a scholar

Welcome to my blog. When I think about what I want to do with it—what I seek to accomplish—I can't help but return to a younger version of myself... one who never had much of a voice. Here, I intend to use that voice to explore the difficult roads I've faced: of faith, doubt, and the search for the elusive reality of truth.

As a child, I experienced pains that, even today, I find impossible to describe. I remember being happy once, but now I wonder if I'll ever feel that way again. It’s odd. No matter what I faced, nothing seemed to break me—until I was forced to face myself. It turns out that while the shell I peered out from was robust, the insides were not so sturdy.

When the pressures from beyond finally lessened, it was the perfect time to trap me in my own mind. There, I faced demons of every account and created a darkness that I trapped myself in when I shut myself away and stopped looking for help. And though my situation opened the door for me to wound myself, I can't help but carry the blame.

It's often hard to explain my beliefs because they are rooted in what must be felt. Perhaps that is why I love music; in many ways, it expresses what my own words cannot. Still, a part of me has always longed to be heard, to be seen, to be acknowledged. At some point, I think the ethos of a voice became my strength. The search for an outlet—the determination to find truth no matter the cost—became an internal conviction. It's a force that pulls my shoulders back and lifts my head when I would otherwise feel so quiet, so broken.

I want to tell myself it's silly to dwell on the past, an easy out from the present I often miss. But I suppose, in some ways, I never really grew up.

I got taller, stronger, and wiser despite myself—but the little part of me that dreamed of a perfect world never got smaller; it never died out. Like my pain, it festered. In quiet moments, it spoke out, trying to express itself in the very manner I have always sought.

Despite feeling so alien to who I am now, this voice has always laid in the deeper parts of my heart, not so easy to reach or to cut. And while I love it, it inevitably chains me. It shackles me. It forces me to stay within myself and think... think... and think.

That tiny voice—the one that never had a chance to speak when I was little—compels me to speak out now. It yearns for an admonition it may never receive, for a recognition it may never earn.

But I let it speak nonetheless.

And so, I welcome you to my study: the digital home of my thoughts and feelings as a saint and a scholar on a search for truth.